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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22850263">abhaile, mo rún</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleseal/pseuds/littleseal'>littleseal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adam Parrish Loves Ronan Lynch, Boys In Love, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, POV Adam Parrish, Slice of Life, The Barns (Raven Cycle), hello new fandom how are you guys, post trk, pre CDTH, pynch - Freeform, they're so in love kids, this is so self-indulgent don't judge me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:48:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,091</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22850263</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleseal/pseuds/littleseal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>He’s home</i>, Adam thinks. This is Ronan’s home, and this is where he carved out a place for Adam, too, so readily and effortlessly, and Adam loves him, he <i>loves</i> him, he loves <i>him</i>. "</p><p>Adam spends the summer at the Barns.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>265</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>abhaile, mo rún</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I read somewhere that the Irish word for secret is the form of endearment, and Adam being Ronan's secret... yeah. I can't get this out of my head. So the title's supposed to mean 'homeward, my secret/my love'. (please do correct me if I'm wrong, my knowledge of Irish is extremely limited.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>It’s not the heat that wakes him up, nor the drops of sweat sliding down the back of his neck; it’s the light summer breeze breathing over his skin, making him shiver and exhale a sigh of relief.</p><p>Adam stretches his long legs, pushes one of his arms outside the bed, and shifts until he’s lying on his back. It’s still early, too early even for him to be awake. The sun must be just peaking above the horizon because the room is still bathed in a weak blue glow. It’s quiet. It’s so so quiet, and once upon a time, it would have made him ache. But now, he closes his eyes for one more second and listens to the distant chirping of the early morning birds somewhere outside the open window, one lone cricket ending its song, and a quiet sound of legs shifting underneath the sheets. His eyes travel from the shadows playing on the wall to the white curtain swaying gently with the breeze, before they land on the sleeping form next to him.</p><p>Ronan lies on his side, his back turned to Adam, his chest rising and falling with a steady intake of breath, and Adam fights the urge to kiss the dark tattoo wrapping around the base of his neck, not wanting to wake him up from his peaceful sleep. Lord knows he deserved a lot more of that than he got.</p><p>Adam watches the shadows playing on Ronan’s body for one more minute before he slowly detangles from the sheets and lays his bare feet on the wooden floor, sneaking off to the bathroom. He avoids the loud boards of the floor and tilts his head to listen with his good ear to the creaking of the house settling. It freaked him out, at first, all the soft sounds Ronan’s home makes just by existing, like a living creature adjusting to the long heat of the summer and the short relief the night brings. St Agnes was noisy, yes, but those were the noises of people taking care of the sacred building, moving and praying and finding some comfort. Here, though, these are the sounds of a home well-loved and lived-in, the building accommodating to the people in it.</p><p>The door of the bathroom is loud and squeaky – Ronan mentioned a few days ago he was going to fix it, but he never got around to it – and Adam doesn’t close it all the way. He splashes the cold water on his face and rubs at his neck, letting the droplets slip under the collar of his t-shirt. He doesn’t look in the mirror.</p><p>When Adam comes back to the room, he pauses at the doorway and leans on the frame. Slowly, the sky outside is turning pink. The cricket is gone now, and he thinks he can hear Chainsaw cawing somewhere far away. Soon there will be the sound of hooves running across the porch and the door banging open and closed. <em>So much like Ronan</em>, he will mutter under his breath and get a matching pair of scowls in return.</p><p>Once again, his eyes are drawn to the sleeping creature in the – in their – bed. Ronan is now sprawled on his back, one of his arms resting on his belly and the other stretched across Adam’s side of the bed. Something tugs at Adam’s heart whenever he sees him like this, relaxed and at peace, without the frown between his eyebrows, the lines of his face smooth and boyish. Adam doesn’t remember the time when he didn’t love him, doesn’t remember the time he wasn’t able to see past Ronan’s barbed edges. It seems so long ago, the time he didn’t look at Ronan and think, <em>this one, this is the one I want. </em></p><p>Suddenly, Ronan’s eyebrows furrow together and the tips of his fingers twitch against the sheet. Adam’s shoulders tense as he watches him twist the sheet in his hand, his knuckles turning white.</p><p>“Adam?” he calls in the exact moment he bolts upright in the bed. He goes from sound asleep to wide awake in a matter of a second, and once upon a time, Adam was jealous of him. Now, he wonders if those states make any difference to Ronan.</p><p>“I’m here,” Adam calls from the doorway, his voice still rough and sleepy, even as he moves back to the bed.</p><p>Ronan’s blue eyes lock on him and his grip on the sheet relaxes, his shoulders slumping.</p><p>“I was in the bathroom,” Adam explains as he sits down, his hip digging into Ronan’s thigh. “There’s finally some wind this morning. Easier to breathe.”</p><p>Ronan wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and then slides it over his scalp. “It’s still hot as balls,” he comments, poetic as always.</p><p>Adam stays quiet and tries to hide his yawn in the sleeve of his t-shirt. Ronan reaches for him, splays his fingers against Adam’s thigh and slips his thumb under Adam’s boxers. In turn, Adam lays his hand on Ronan’s naked chest, his skin sticky with sweat. For a moment, he feels for Ronan’s heartbeat and feels it slowing down to a natural rhythm.</p><p>“Bad dream?” Adam asks, almost sounding like he doesn’t care for the answer, and turns his eyes to the place where Ronan’s shoulder meets his neck.</p><p>Ronan looks away – of course he does, - focusing on something outside the window, but he still nods.</p><p>Adam nods back, stays silent. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t think he would get an answer anyway. Instead, he leans forward and kisses Ronan’s collarbone.</p><p>Ronan turns his head and presses his lips against Adam’s temple. “What are you doing up so early?” he asks him, his voice quieter, gentler. “It’s, like, fuck o’clock in the morning. Even you don’t get up this early.”</p><p>Adam shrugs and raises his head to kiss him properly. “Couldn’t sleep, I guess,” he murmurs against his lips and feels Ronan hand slip from his thigh to his hip, moves to curl around his waist. He lets his own finger trace the outlines of Ronan’s upper arm, lets his hand move from Ronan’s heart to cup the back of his shaved head.</p><p>There was a time, once, when he couldn’t imagine himself this content. Especially not in the hands of one Ronan Lynch. But Adam finds his thoughts are utterly empty as he focuses on Ronan’s hand on the skin of his back, Ronan’s fingers threading through the short hair on the nape of his neck, Ronan’s lips soft and pliant against his, Ronan’s lips kissing his jaw, Ronan’s mouth on the side of his neck, Ronan, Ronan, <em>Ronan</em>.</p><p>“Let’s go back to bed,” Ronan whispers against the spot under Adam’s good ear, and Adam nods.</p><p>He lets Ronan pulls them closer, and down, until Adam’s lying half on top of him.</p><p>Outside the window, the sun begins to rise properly. Its rays poke through the curtain and fall on Ronan’s sharp face. Adam traces them with his fingers, until Ronan grabs them, not ungently, and moves them to his mouth.</p><p>***</p><p>“Jesus <em>God</em>!”</p><p>The sound of something tumbling and crashing in the kitchen is followed by the sounds of a crow cawing.</p><p>“Shut the fuck up!” Ronan yells back at her, and Adam turns back to his cards now safely assured that his boyfriend didn’t break his neck.</p><p>Adam taps his fingers against the spread out deck and closes his eyes. He lets himself relax, slip into that part of his mind that reaches outside of himself. His index finger pauses against one of the cards still in the deck and he opens his eyes.</p><p>The Wheel of Fortune. Three of Wands.</p><p>He flips the third card up.</p><p>Ten of Cups.</p><p>Adam exhales through his nose.</p><p>The screen door slams open and shut somewhere in the background. He hears Ronan calling for Opal, Chainsaw’s croaks growing more distant.</p><p>Adam’s eyes flick between the cards as he collects the rest of the deck. “Have you heard from Gansey?” he asks Ronan when he hears him slam his way back inside.</p><p>“No.” Ronan shows up in the doorway, scowling. He looks between Adam and the cards still on the table. Something in his expression shifts. “Why?”</p><p>Adam relaxes back into the chair. “They’re fine,” he says instead of answering. Or maybe just answering the actual question.</p><p>Ronan nods. “You hungry?” he asks.</p><p>***</p><p>Adam is sitting on the couch, trying to concentrate on the book in his hands, but he is constantly being distracted by the sweat dripping down his back. It’s too hot to do anything at all; he gave up working on his car hours ago.</p><p>He spent the whole morning bent over its hood, pushing the hair out of his eyes, and trying to coax the old engine into giving him any signs of life. He would have probably stayed there much longer, hadn’t Ronan showed up with a glass of something in his hand, dripping a wet trail from his elbow.</p><p>“Here,” he said, thrusting the glass at Adam, “try this.”</p><p>Adam straightened and gave the glass a suspicious look. “What is it?” He still reached for it.</p><p>“Lemonade,” Ronan replied, his face blank.</p><p>“You made it?” Adam asked, moving the glass to his lips. He waited for Ronan to nod, drowned the drink in one go, and made a face. “Too sugary.”</p><p>Ronan pushed at his shoulder. “Shithead.”</p><p>Adam gave the glass back to him, smiling, and leaned to kiss his cheek.</p><p>“You stink like gasoline,” Ronan said, grimacing. “Take a shower, Parrish.”</p><p>“Asshole!” Adam called after him as he turned to leave, but still wiped his hands on the pants of his coveralls and followed him after a minute into the house.</p><p>Adam wishes now that the shower helped. It didn’t. His fingernails are still smudged with black, not something he could ever wash away, and his legs itch in the bend of his knees. He can’t even hear Opal running around anymore, which probably means she found a cool place to nap. He almost envies her.</p><p>Ronan comes into the room, shirtless and barefoot, and throws himself on the couch next to Adam. He lays his head on the armrest, and digs his heels into Adam’s thigh. Adam does his best pretending not to mind him as he focuses back on his book.</p><p>He puts his hand down on Ronan’s ankle and hears the other boy sigh. Unconsciously, Adam trails his thumb across the arch of his foot and Ronan jerks back. Adam stills his hand.</p><p>“Tickles,” Ronan says, moves his arm back under his head.</p><p>Adam pauses a second before repeating his action on his other foot. Ronan pulls his foot back. “Parrish.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Adam says and tries to hide his smile.</p><p>He waits until Ronan throws his legs back over him and closes his eyes, relaxing completely, and then drags three of his fingers across both of Ronan’s feet.</p><p>The other boy all but jumps, pulling his feet away. “Son of a-,” He opens his eyes to glare at Adam who drops his book in favor of laughing at him. Ronan lifts one of his legs and pushes it at Adam’s face. “Asshole!”</p><p>Adam raises both his arms to push Ronan’s feet away. “Eww, Lynch!” he yells, but he doesn’t stop laughing.</p><p>***</p><p>It’s still dark when Adam opens his eyes. His good ear is pressed against the pillow, so he doesn’t hear much, just a low hush of the pillow under his cheek. He blinks, and blinks again, trying to figure out why he is awake. He looks over his shoulder and realizes Ronan is gone, but when he slides his hand across the empty sheets they’re still warm.</p><p>He lies on his back and waits, listening for the footsteps outside the door or the creaking of the stairs but hears nothing. He’s still for a moment more, contemplating just rolling over and falling back asleep, but something in the back of his mind urges him to stand up. Adam used to believe that part of him belonged to Cabeswater. He used to believe it was Cabeswater, desperate in its attempt to protect its Greywaren poking at him to go, hurry up, fix it before Ronan gets hurt. But then one night at the Barns, sitting at the big table in the dining room and chewing on a piece of banana bread, Calla tapped her long purple fingernail against a tarot card.</p><p>“The Magician,” she said. Next to her, Maura Sargent hummed her approval. “It’s always been there.”</p><p>Adam wanted to help Ronan, simply because he wanted to help Ronan.</p><p>Now, Adam taps his palm against his own knee and hums. He waits for another second, taking a breath, and then pushes himself to his feet.</p><p>It’s dark in the rest of the house, too, and he makes his way downstairs slowly, carefully. His mind keeps twisting, still lagged with sleep. <em>Think, think, it’s Ronan, think</em>. The gray BMW is the first thing that comes to him, and he doesn’t want to think what he’s going to do if he doesn’t find it sitting outside. Hondayota is still useless, basically dead behind one of the barns, and Gansey’s away, he can’t-, he could-, he could call 300 Fox Way, if he could find Ronan’s phone and-,</p><p>Adam steps down the last of the stairs and finds the screen door to the porch hanging open. He sees the silhouette of a person sitting on the stairs only thanks to the pale moonlight.</p><p>Adam lets out a breath of relief. His steps are more confident as he crosses the distance and pushes the door closed behind himself.</p><p>Ronan doesn’t move, doesn’t raise his head to look at him, doesn’t speak. Adam comes closer and sits down next to him, not touching, but close enough to be able to. He listens to Ronan’s breathing, slow and steady. An owl makes a sound somewhere in the trees. Adam sniffs.</p><p>“Bad dream?” he tries after he is sure Ronan won’t run away if he speaks. He feels more than sees him nod.</p><p>“I didn’t bring anything back, though,” Ronan says before he turns his head away and spits on the ground.</p><p>Adam makes a face.</p><p>“I should sleep in the other room,” he says, rubbing at his scalp.</p><p>Adam nods. “Am I in it?” he asks.</p><p>“No,” Ronan answers. “Yes,” he adds. “Kinda.”</p><p>“Kinda?”</p><p>“Kinda.”</p><p>Ronan picks at the scab on his right knee, the one he got trying to climb the plum tree and then sliding gracelessly down the trunk. Opal laughed at him, Ronan cursed colorfully, and Adam snorted.</p><p>“It’s not-,” Ronan tries again, stops. “I know it’s not real, it’s not you. I could never dream you real enough, so I know it’s not you.”</p><p>Adam nods again, waits.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” Ronan concludes, but makes no move to stand up.</p><p>The cricket starts its song somewhere in the grass.</p><p>“Tell me then,” Adam whispers gently.</p><p>“What?” Ronan looks at him, finally. Adam looks back.</p><p>“If it doesn’t matter,” Adam says, “tell me what the dream is about.”</p><p>Ronan holds his gaze for a long moment before he looks away, up across the field, into the darkness. There are no Ronan’s fireflies in the field tonight.</p><p>They are quiet for so long that Adam is sure Ronan isn’t going to cave in.</p><p>Then: “I had it for the first time when we went looking for Gansey.” Ronan rubs at his eye with the heel of his hand. “When the demon… When I went in to get something to find Gansey. And you… You were scrying, so you were there, too.”</p><p>“I remember,” Adam says quietly when he pauses.</p><p>Ronan nods. “I mean, it’s not always the same. There is no more demon, now. But sometimes it’s still only your voice I hear. Sometimes I can see you, too. Sometimes Gansey’s there, too, with Sargent. It’s…” He groans, low and unhappy. “It’s different every time. But it’s the same, every time.”</p><p>Adam swallows. “Do I-, I mean. Do my hands-,”</p><p>“No,” Ronan hurries to say. “It’s not that.” He makes a move as if he’s going to reach for Adam, but then cuts himself off, goes back to picking on the scabs on his legs. “That wasn’t you.”</p><p>“I know.” Adam nods. “I know it wasn’t.”</p><p>Ronan manages to pull at one scab bad enough to peel off the skin underneath it, the blood blossoming underneath, and he hisses.</p><p>“You walk away from me.” Ronan presses the tip of his finger to the bleeding skin. “You… you go away, and I know you’re not coming back.”</p><p>Adam tilts his head to the side and watches him carefully.  His face is sharp, his eyes focused on his fingers pressing on the spot of blood on his knee, his mouth turned downwards. Calla used to call him the snake; Adam once called him a god. Here was a boy with infinite possibilities inside him; the creator of his own universe, far bigger and more beautiful than Adam could ever imagine, the adored king of his own kingdom, powerful and <em>alive</em>, so alive. And the worst thing he could come up with is Adam leaving him behind. It’s in the moments like these that Adam can’t wrap his mind around Ronan. He understands the pain and he understand the anger; he understands Ronan wanting stability and freedom. But he doesn’t understand Ronan wanting this - wanting Adam, a boy made of dirt, angry and greedy – and thinking that he is somehow the undeserving one.</p><p>Adam turns his head, swallows and shifts until their shoulders brush together. “I’ve wanted to leave since I can remember.”</p><p>He can feel Ronan watching him now, but Adam’s eyes stay focused on the sky above the trees. For a moment it feels like Ronan’s going to say something, but then he decides against it and presses his mouth into a thin line.</p><p>“I’ve wanted to leave,” Adam continues, “and never come back. Everything I’ve ever done has been towards this one single goal in my mind.”</p><p>Adam licks his lips. “You remember when I met Gansey? He went on and on about Glendower, and ley lines, and magic. And I never… I never believed in magic. But Gansey was talking about this-, this idea of being something bigger. He talked about searching for that something, he talked about leaving everything behind in search for that something, and I thought, here is someone who gets it.”</p><p>Adam raises one side of his lips in an attempt to smile. “And then he began talking about Henrietta like he was in love. Here, he said, here is where he belongs. And I did not understand. I couldn’t understand why would… why anyone would want to stay here, a place made for leaving. A place I wanted to escape so badly. I told him, back then- I immediately told him, you can stay all you want, but I’m leaving. I’m leaving and I won’t be caught dead coming back.”</p><p>Adam feels how tense Ronan’s shoulders are. Adam knows he is stiff and angry, waiting for the end punch. So Adam leans into him a bit more heavily. “But back then, I didn’t have a reason to come back.”</p><p>Ronan takes a deep breath. “And now?”</p><p>“Now…” Adam turns his head to look at Ronan’s profile. “Now I think I found it. Home. Ronan,” he says and waits until Ronan turns to look back at him, “I’ll come back home.”</p><p>There are too many emotions playing on Ronan’s face: relief, sadness, hope, love, <em>love</em>, love.</p><p>He reaches for Adam’s hand, intertwines their fingers, and lets his eyes fall on them. “And after?”</p><p>“I’ll come back,” Adam says simply, shrugging his shoulders. “I have to leave, you know I do. But I’ll always come back, as long as you’re here.”</p><p>Ronan nods once, twice. “I’ll be here.”</p><p>Adam searches his face for a long moment before he decides to ask his own question. “Will it be enough for you? This? The Barns, and… and me? Will you be okay?”</p><p>Ronan snorts, shifts his weight so he’s leaning into Adam, too. “Yes,” he says simply. “This is everything… everything I want.”</p><p>“Okay,” Adam says and leans forward to press his nose against Ronan’s shoulder. “Okay.”</p><p>He feels Ronan press a kiss against his forehead, feels him smile against his lips.</p><p>They stay like that for the longest time, leaning into each other, holding each other up. They stay like that until the night turns chilly, until Ronan lets Adam pull him up to his feet, until he lets him drag him inside, until they both fall into the bed, tired but smiling, until Ronan lays his head above Adam’s heart, until Adam kisses his eyelids and tells him to dream.</p><p>***</p><p>Adam should be picking plums – he did promise to help, after all – but he keeps getting distracted. Surely, he reasons, Ronan can’t expect of him to be too efficient when he is just… so… there.</p><p>Adam can’t stop glancing at the way Ronan’s muscles shift underneath his tank top as he moves around; he moves swift and precise, but not rushed, like he knows exactly where the next good fruit is. Adam lets his eyes linger on his arms, his hands, his ass, his exposed shoulders, the sweat gleaming on his shaved head, his cheeks pink from sun and exertion. The way he stretches his arm up to pluck a plum from a branch directly over his head. Ronan grabs at the edge of his tank and for a moment Adam thinks he is going to pull it off. He doesn’t. Fortunately so – Adam is pretty sure his heart would then have no choice but to collapse.</p><p>But Ronan just uses the soft material to wipe the fruit in his hand clean and he turns towards Adam, not really looking at him. Adam straightens up and moves until he is close enough to rest his hands on Ronan’s hips.</p><p>“This one should be sweet,” Ronan mutters and splits the plum with his fingertips. “Try it, I think you’ll like it.”</p><p>Adam opens his mouth and Ronan puts one half of the fruit on his tongue. It’s mostly sour, but a little sweet, too.</p><p>Ronan picks the pit and chucks it aside as he shoves the rest of the fruit into his own mouth, licking the juice off his fingers. He watches Adam’s face for reaction.</p><p>“Is it good?”</p><p>Adam leans forward and kisses Ronan’s lips. It tastes better there.</p><p>Ronan makes a small sound and brings his hands to cup Adam’s jaw. They kiss slowly, gently, their lips moving against each other in practiced rhythm, tongues darting out to taste, but nothing more. He thinks he could stay forever like this, here, sun hitting his back, Ronan holding him and kissing him, melting into each other, all thoughts of fruit and chores forgotten.</p><p>Eventually, Ronan pulls away, but doesn’t really move away, just rests his forehead against Adam’s and breathes.</p><p>“Let’s finish up for today,” he says and kisses the spot between Adam’s eyebrows.</p><p>They pick up the buckets brimming with fruit and they carry them behind the barns where they shake their contents out into the big wooden barrels sitting in the shade. Ronan throws the buckets aside and makes his way towards the field stretching behind the barns, losing his shoes somewhere in the process. Adam, for his part, knocks his knuckles against the barrel before leaning against it, perfectly happy to stay and cool in the shade for a while.</p><p>He watches as Ronan slowly comes to a stop, for reasons only known to him. At first he does nothing else. He just stands there, hands on his hips, his face turned towards the sun, soaking in the light and the heat, his eyes closed. It always strikes Adam with wonder, just how much at home Ronan looks here, how much he <em>belongs</em>, in the way he only ever belonged in Cabeswater. He’s beautiful like this, Adam thinks, such a wonderful creature. He’s made of light, of light and green and warmth, no matter how much Ronan thinks otherwise. What other being could fit here so seamlessly?</p><p>There is always a bit of swagger in Ronan’s step; the way he takes up space around him is loud and confident. Adam used to be jealous of that, wishing the looks would pause and lock on him the way they did on Ronan – whether with fear, or hatred, or want. Nobody glanced twice at Adam Parrish, the boy made of dust. Nobody, that is, until the very Ronan Lynch himself.</p><p>But here, Ronan’s moves are… different. There is still that confidence in him, but here his body is relaxed, his limbs confident the way they can only be when you know what you are reaching for. He moves with a purpose, like he always knows where he is going and where he is going to end up.</p><p><em>He’s home</em>, Adam thinks. This is Ronan’s home, and this is where he carved out a place for Adam, too, so readily and effortlessly, and Adam loves him, he <em>loves</em> him, he loves <em>him</em>. To think he used to be afraid he wouldn’t know how to.</p><p>Ronan turns around himself slowly, his eyes darting around until they find Adam’s and then Ronan curls his lips into a soft smile. He strolls back, nods his head towards a pile of cut off branches sitting under one of the trees surrounding them.</p><p>“Help me with those,” he says.</p><p>Adam raises an eyebrow. “I thought we were done for today.” He pushes himself of the barrel even as he says it.</p><p>“With the plums, smartass,” Ronan replies and raises his hand to mess up Adam’s hair. “I have an idea.”</p><p>“Oh no,” Adam says, his tone flat. “Should I be worried?”</p><p>Ronan snorts. “Shut up.”</p><p>Adam follows him as they pick up the branches and carry them out into the meadow, throw them on a different pile on a different place that makes no difference to Adam.</p><p>“The rest, too,” Ronan says under the trees again as he hurries into the barn.</p><p>“Sure,” Adam yells after him, “you just go ahead, I’ll do it all myself.”</p><p>He emerges from the barn carrying an axe in one hand while he flips Adam off with another. “Just keep on going,” he says as he disappears to the front again, and Adam doesn’t know if he wants to know.</p><p>He comes back again just when Adam finishes, this time carrying one bucket filled with even more pieces of wood and one filled with… bricks. Adam rubs at the scratches on his arms and watches on.</p><p>Ronan puts both of the buckets down before he grabs two bricks and makes a couple of steps to the left. He then stomps his feet – newly covered in an old pair of shoes – around the grass and starts laying down the bricks in a circle. Then he throws the branches in the middle of the circle and he… starts making fire.</p><p>“Isn’t it hot enough already?” Adam asks, sitting on the grass couple of feet away. Ronan shoots him a look.</p><p>The sun is now setting slowly behind him, and Adam observes as everything turns red and orange and soft around them. The sky, too, looks like it’s on fire and Adam finds it somehow fitting. Ronan stands beside him, eyes looking at the fire slowly burning in front of them.</p><p>It’s more night than dusk when Ronan kicks at his foot. “Can you keep it going for a while?”</p><p>Adam nods. “Sure.”</p><p>Ronan turns around and disappears further down the field. He comes back soon enough, though, Opal hanging off of his leg.</p><p>“<em>Ke-rah</em>!” she insists, her voice somewhere between angry and pleading.</p><p>“Ronan,” Ronan says. When they come close enough to the fire, he drops half a dozen of corns, still wrap in the green leaves. Opal kneels down next to the pile and watches carefully as Ronan tears the leaves away. He deliberately doesn’t look at her.</p><p>“Christ,” he mutters after a while. “Fine.” Opal grins at him, wide and pleased, before grabbing one of the corns still wrapped in green and scuttling to the other side of the fire.</p><p>Adam watches as she digs her teeth into the corn, leaves and cob and all. He makes a face. “That can’t be tasty.”</p><p>“She eats mice,” Ronan says as if that explains anything. “This might be an upgrade.” He grabs a couple of corns for their stems and holds them over fire.</p><p>Soon the air is filled with the sweetly smell of corn burning, and Ronan curses under his breath as he burns himself once, twice. He moves to sit next to Adam, and they eat in silence. Opal steals two more; one roasted, one still fresh.</p><p>The air is silent around them, a gust of wind playing in Adam’s hair.</p><p>The fire is still softly cracking, their arms brushing together, when Ronan kisses his shoulder and lies back on the grass, crossing his arms behind his head. Opal is long since asleep by then, on the other side of their makeshift fireplace, her chest raising and falling silently. Adam rubs at his knees and looks up at the sky. It’s clear, without a cloud in sight, and he can see all the tiny stars the way he never could in the town. It never fails to leave him a bit breathless.</p><p>Ronan’s hand sneaks under the back of his tee, but he only rests his fingers against the small of Adam's back and stills there. “We used to do this a lot when we were kids,” he says, his voice calm and soft.</p><p>“The bonfire?” Adam asks before sneaking a look at him.</p><p>Ronan’s eyes are still shut when he answers. “Yeah, that, but I meant, <em>this</em>.” His other hand comes up to wave around vaguely. “Roasting corn over fire. Sleeping in the grass. That kinda shit.”</p><p>Adam moves slowly, lowering himself until his head is resting on Ronan’s shoulder. He pulls himself closer, presses himself up Ronan’s side and traces his fingers from Ronan’s hip, across his belly, until he manages to raise his tank just so, so he can slip his hand underneath, rest it somewhere under Ronan’s ribs. In turn, Ronan’s arm curls around his shoulders, his hand rubs down his arm and rests at his waist.</p><p>“Even Declan?” Adam asks, looking up at Ronan’s still closed eyes.</p><p>He smirks. “Even Declan.”</p><p>His dreamed-up little lights dance across the meadow in the distance. The cricket sings its song, and this time it’s joined by others, somewhere in the woods.</p><p>“We could only do that for a couple of weeks,” Ronan continues, almost whispering, his voice rough. “The season only lasts so long. A good fucking thing, too. There is a limited amount of corn you can eat before you’re sick of it.”</p><p>Adam smiles against his chest.</p><p>“I think that’s how we learned to… you know. Appreciate things like that.” He rubs his thumb against the soft cotton on Adam’s tee. “Enjoy it while it lasts. Look forward to what's coming next.”</p><p>Adam stays quiet for a while. He has a hunch he isn’t talking only about fruit and vegetables. He has a feeling that Ronan told him more of himself than he’s used to. So he asks, “What’s your favorite?”</p><p>“Quince,” Ronan answers, something in his voice relieved. The smirk is back in his voice when he says, “Declan’s was zucchini, because he’s exciting like that. Matthew’s was… well, everything. Strawberries. Plums. Fucking corn.”</p><p>Adam laughs a little. “That sounds like Matthew.”</p><p>They both fall quiet and Adam starts to doze off, before Ronan says, barely above whisper, “If you manage to come back during the third or fourth week, we can try to cook them.”</p><p>Adam raises his head a little, tries to blink sleep out of his eyes, noses at Ronan’s jaw. “What? Corn?”</p><p>Ronan snorts. “No, smartass. Quince.” His right hand comes to rest at Adam’s elbow while the other traces his fingers up Adam's arm, all the way up under his own tank top, until he finds Adam’s hand, laces their fingers together. He pulls their hands from under his tank top, and presses Adam’s knuckles against his lips. “Mom used to cook them for us. She would make this sort of-, Shit, I don’t know. That was always Matthew’s thing, cooking with her. Compote? Anyway. It was sweet, sugary. I loved it.”</p><p>“I would like to try that,” Adam whispers against his collarbone, closing his eyes. “And apples?”</p><p>“What about apples?”</p><p>“When do they ripen?”</p><p>Ronan pauses for a moment. “Shit, I don’t know. Middle of October?”</p><p>Adam nods. “Okay. I’ll try.”</p><p>He feels Ronan press a lingering kiss to the crown of his head. He lets their steady breaths and the quiet sounds of the night lull him to sleep.</p><p>That is, until Ronan shakes him awake, not roughly, and says, “Come on, Parrish. You’ll start drooling on my shirt.” He pushes both of them until they’re sitting up, Adam rubbing at his eyes.</p><p>“Try not to fall asleep in the shower,” Ronan says, and Adam catches him looking at him. There is something soft around his eyes, his gaze full of adoration and calmness, and he doesn’t shy away. It’s still too much, sometimes, for Adam, to be the one on the receiving end of this.</p><p>Adam reaches for him instead. “You’re not coming?”</p><p>Ronan shakes his head. “I’ll be right up. Let me just…” He nods at the fire. “Have to put this down first. And convince the brat over there not to sleep outside.” He looks across at Opal, but by the way Opal’s mouth hangs open, her limbs folded underneath her, Adam thinks that’s a lost cause. He still nods, gets up on his feet, swaying a bit, and finds his way back to the house.</p><p>He’s sitting at the edge of their bed when the creaking of the bathroom door announces Ronan, followed by the sound of a shower turning on. Almost unthinkingly, Adam reaches for his tarot deck and shuffles it, quickly then slower.</p><p>He thinks about Ronan, about Opal, about apples and corn. He picks a card.</p><p>Two of Cups.</p><p>Ronan opens and closes the door surprisingly quietly. He climbs into the bed and nods at the cards in Adam’s hand. “What do they say?”</p><p>Adam flips the card back into the deck and shakes his head. “Nothing I don’t already know.” He puts the cards back on the shelf and follows Ronan down onto the bed.</p><p>“Sounds like those’re some shitty cards,” Ronan comments, yawns.</p><p>Adam moves over him until he’s mostly lying on top of him, Adam’s arms on either side of Ronan’s head. “Maybe I’m just an amazing psychic.” Before Ronan opens his mouth to reply, Adam leans down and kisses him. At first it’s firm and rough, in order to shut him up, but then it grows slower again, more careful, Ronan’s hands travelling up his sides, Adam’s hands cupping his cheeks.</p><p>Adam pulls away, breathes against Ronan’s lips, kisses a corner of his mouth.</p><p>“Smartass,” Ronan mutters and hides his next yawn against Adam’s cheek.</p><p>Adam smiles and rolls off of him, settles on his side, and then feels Ronan pressing up against his back, his arm coming to sling around his waist.</p><p>Adam thinks about the apples. He thinks about hot summer days, lying down next to Ronan, laughing at some stupid joke he makes, hearing him laugh, happy. He thinks about Ronan and Opal fighting, but not really fighting, and Chainsaw making too much noise. He thinks about leaning back into Ronan as they talk on the phone with Gansey or Blue or Henry or all three of them at once. He thinks about the mess Ronan makes in the kitchen and the flour he gets in his hair as he kisses him and kisses him and kisses him, thinks about making out on the couch. He thinks about the Barns, the green Barns, about plums and quince and cherries and strawberries and corn. He thinks about this bed and the window above it and the wind in the trees and the warm, strong arms around him.</p><p>Ronan kisses the back of his neck. Adam closes his eyes and sleeps.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sometimes.... a simple life.... is good enough......</p><p>thank you for reading, guys! if you liked it, please leave kudos/comments, it means everything to me. I don't really use tumblr anymore but if you want to send me a message and/or freak out about these kids, <a href="https://stareaten.tumblr.com/">please feel free do to so</a>, I will answer there.<br/>I did read Call Down The Hawk, and I'm so furiously worried about these two that I wrote a ton of ridiculous fluff about them. That's how I cope.</p><p>Now. Can quince grow in Virginia? I don't know! But it's honestly my favorite so I gave it to Ronan.<br/>If you're curious about Adam's tarot cards, here are what I believe are their general meanings, aka how I interpret them:<br/>The Wheel of Fortune - inevitable change, cycles<br/>Three of Wands - transformation of dreams into plans, rapid growth, looking ahead (it's also my card, that's why I gave it to Adam)<br/>Ten of Cups -  peace, contentment, fulfillment, strong sense of community related to family, friends, loved ones<br/>Two of Cups - unity, partnership of balance and respect, two become one</p><p>Also! Ronan's love language is feeding Adam every couple of hours despite his questionable cooking skills, convince me otherwise.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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